One Piece Drabbles
by Lonicera Japonica
Summary: A collection of drabbles and ficlets regarding the manga series One Piece. Most of them are utterly ridiculous and all of them were incredibly fun to write.
1. The Apron

**The Apron**

Once, when Sanji was shopping, he found an apron that said "Kiss the Cook". Now, while he knew subconsciously that Nami-san would never fall for it, a more devious part of his brain whispered that it couldn't hurt to try. So he bought it, because if nothing else, what could it hurt?

_What it could hurt_ turned out to be Sanji's pride – and face. He turned the oven burner up to 'high' and set the apron ablaze while Nami explained to their captain (calmly, rationally and with barely-stifled giggles) that some written instructions were not meant to be taken literally.


	2. Christmas Swordsman

**Christmas Swordsman**

Zoro's hair, Luffy decided one December day, was the perfect shade of green. He jumped off the figurehead and raced into the galley, snatching some flour before Sanji could protest, and ran back onto the deck. He joyfully flung the flour at his first mate's head, momentarily surveying the bristly green laced with powdery white before declaring "Now you're a Christmas tree!"

Zoro blinked, dumbfounded, for several seconds before making a concise inquiry: "What the fuck?"

Sanji dropkicked the swordsman and accused him of wasting flour. The others watched the ensuing fight with puzzled amusement, Luffy grinning like a loon.


	3. Haircuts

**Haircuts**

Robin's is easiest. Straight across, just above the shoulders, simple and reserved – yet uncannily elegant. And she is patient; willing to sit still while it is cut.

Luffy's is hardest. He has to be forcibly pinned to the deck and his hat has to be removed, horror of horrors, and it takes special scissors to cut rubber.

Chopper's doesn't really _need_ cut, but it should be trimmed around the hooves, because it's neater and looks nice that way, which he rudely and gleefully protests.

Nami always says she wants something different, something new and flashy, and it always turns out the same. She pretends to be irritated.

Zoro used to cut his with a knife and no mirror, but that was fixed soon enough, despite many a loud complaint. All it took was to tell him to shut up and take it like a man.

Usopp only wants a trim, _just a trim, be careful with those_, because the thousands of women who make up Captain Usopp's vast fanclub like it the way it is.

Sanji's has a _style_, one that he keeps because it looks good on him and he knows it. Also Nami-san once said it was cute and he is _never ever changing it_.

For most of them, it has been the same way for as long as they can remember, but that's okay because, like so many other things, they can't imagine it any other way now.


	4. Quiet

Okay, I cheated. This one is 189 words. Sorry 'bout that.

**Quiet**

To Roronoa Zoro, "quiet" is an abstract concept, or at best, one of those things that happens to other people.

Zoro can sleep through anything, even storms and battles and mealtimes (though he chooses not to). He can nap away the day on the hard wooden deck amidst the ruckus of his crewmates quarreling and laughing and screaming and running about, through the screeching of seagulls and the slapping of waves against the hull. He is not disturbed by the sound of marbles striking the bulkheads like bullets or by the clatter of coins and jangle of jewelry, not by matches stricken and food sizzling nor by the joyful giggles of a boy high on life and friendship.

At night, hammocks creak and crewmates snore, and sometimes Zoro can hear a pen scratching dutifully on paper or feet patrolling the deck above. There is always sound; "quiet" is a thing of the past, something that no longer exists and will never grace the decks of the Going Merry.

What Zoro doesn't know is when exactly he began to equate never-ending noise, rather than the absence of such, with peace.


	5. Winner

This is less a slash thing than a Zoro-getting-owned thing, because that doesn't happen often enough and I felt it was overdue (much as I love him).

**Winner**

Sanji and Zoro are fighting again, and the only talking they do is with feet and with swords. Neither of them ever wins these fights. But this time is different.

It's different because Sanji finds Zoro and kicks him into the bulkhead. Zoro expects this. What he doesn't expect is to be pinned with a glare that he cannot read. The cook smiles.

"I love you," Sanji says, with malice and with meaning.

He walks away, lighting a cigarette as if nothing has happened. Zoro is frozen, opening and closing his mouth, but there is no retort.

Sanji has _won_.


	6. Something Worth Saving

**Something Worth Saving**

Nami sits on the railing and watches the sunset and Usopp watches with her, as he sometimes likes to. There is something on her mind; she is stroking the scar on her palm with her thumb, and something inside him jolts as he remembers.

"Nami?" he begins. She turns toward him and smiles. "I never got to tha–"

"Don't," she says, cutting him off. She is serious, and the smile is gone. "Thank _you_."

"What?" his mouth has gone dry. Why is she looking at him that way? Her eyes are so soft, it doesn't seem right.

"Thank you for fighting for me." She puts the scarred hand on his shoulder, as if only bracing herself as she stands up. But she keeps it there and gives him that look again, and now he is even more confused. She smiles, ducks her head so that her tangerine hair hides her face, but Usopp is sure that she is blushing, because he feels the heat from her face when she presses her lips to his cheek. "And thank you for being worth saving."

She leaves him there, and for the first time in maybe his entire life he is speechless.


	7. Swimming

**Swimming**

Sanji is the best swimmer, because he has lived on boats his entire life, and his legs are strong and his lean, lithe body was built for swimming. He can hold his breath longest (which is a mystery, given the cigarettes), and he is just as a good a show-off swimmer as he is at the all-business kind.

Zoro is an efficient swimmer. He only knows one way to swim because he only needs one way, and it is the fastest and most reliable way there is. He can swim fully-clothed and with three katanas at his hip, and in freezing water that would kill most men. (He'll be damned if he lets _water_ beat him.)

Usopp has a tendency to flounder in the water before he gets his bearings, but he always manages to keep afloat (by outlandish means, if necessary). Once he gets into the swing of it he's quite a competent swimmer, and though he can't beat Zoro or Sanji, he is improving, little by little.

Nami doesn't particularly like to swim (she would rather sun herself on the deck than get involved in childish splash fights), but she does look best in a bathing suit. And when she does swim she's good at it; she has come close to beating Sanji. This is rare, though, because she knows she has nothing to prove.

Luffy watches his crew from the figurehead, laughing as they laugh and fending off playful splashes (while returning a good few). If he feels left out, he never shows it. Besides, it's a fair trade for being able to reach down to the depths of the ocean to drag his crewmates back up if they need him to.


	8. Substitution

300 words. Ended up in an entirely different place than it started.

**Substitution**

Pencil on paper, Usopp traced the form of the sleeping swordsman with the same dedication and intensity he would give to the making of a smoke bomb or a well-crafted lie. Zoro made a good model, motionless but for the slow, steady rise and fall of his chest and the occasional twitch of the hand draped across his stomach. The sunlight poured over him as he slept, illuminating the planes of his bare chest and the lines of his face, shading and highlighting every part of him so perfectly that really, how could Usopp not sit on the railing and sketch the swordsman so diligently, for ten minutes or an hour or the whole duration of his nap? Maybe it was for lack of nerve to touch Zoro with his hands that he did with his eyes, capturing every detail and transferring each one to paper.

The drawing was finished. Usopp looked down at it, and then back up at Zoro–he hadn't done the swordsman justice, and he would never be able to. There was no way to accurately record the sight, not even with a camera. Still, the artist hopped up and walked to the other side of the deck, sat down, and began the drawing over from a different angle. Usopp was so absorbed that he didn't notice Robin standing behind him, looking alternately from his sketchpad to his model. She smiled slightly when the marksman looked up, and while there was no question in the gaze, Usopp felt obliged to give and answer.

"He'd the only one who holds still long enough to draw," Usopp lied, but the lie wasn't effortless like it should have been. Some lies, Usopp had learned, were not easy, and were not right. The drawings were all lies. Lies and substitutions.


	9. Love

**Love**

Sanji decided that he loved Nami maybe just a little bit too much. Not that he would ever, ever tell his sweet angel such; for all she knew, he loved her just enough. And oh, how he wished he did. It had gotten to the point that if he looked at her for too long it hurt, deep in his bones, and sometimes she would wink playfully and he would be so stunned that his heart stopped and, very nearly, his legs felt that holding him up was overrated. But he was in control, Sanji told himself; he was calm and collected, suave, a gentleman. He knew that because of this it would be wrong, wrong and unfair and uncalled for, to just give in and kiss her. So he held back. Asked, but never demanded; requested, but never took.

He wanted to protect her, his beautiful Nami-san, and he did the best he could. There were some things that no one could ever protect her from, things that broke Sanji's heart to think about, but he did the best he could. She was so painfully gorgeous, and he felt, simultaneously, that no one else had the right to notice and that everyone else had better if they knew what was good for them. Sometimes, when Nami stood on the deck and the wind whistled, Sanji wished it had corporeal form so he could kick it all the way to North Blue. He felt like he was going crazy, and how could he be _going_ crazy for this long and not be crazy already? Maybe he was. That would explain it.

It wasn't right, and it wasn't fair, and he wished he didn't love her at all and he hoped with all his heart that he would never ever stop.


	10. Comfortable

**Comfortable**

It was no secret that Zoro liked to sleep, and it was even less of a secret that Zoro liked to sleep alone. Touching a dozing swordsman was grounds for having an arm removed, as far as Zoro was concerned. Of course, Luffy had never been quick to pick up on information that went unannounced, even those things that really should just be understood, which was probably why the captain located his first mate one evening at sundown and flopped down on top of him as if he were a hammock.

"What the hell are you doing?" Zoro inquired, immediately jerking awake and staring down at the boy sprawled on top of him.

"Takin' a nap," Luffy said simply, resting his chin on Zoro's chest and grinning as he looked into the older boy's eyes.

Zoro blinked. Luffy was taking a nap…on him? "Why?" was all he could think to say.

"You're comfortable." Luffy grinned wider and then buried his face in one side of the swordsman's neck, promptly falling asleep.

Zoro stared at the top of Luffy's straw hat, bewildered and wondering why he hadn't shoved the captain off yet. Well…it _was_ a little chilly out, and Luffy _was_ rather warm…come to think of it, lying this was…actually sort of comfortable. Zoro craned his neck to see if anyone was looking, and upon discovering that the coast was clear, he settled down and went back to sleep.

The fact that he awakened an hour so later with one arm wound around the captain's back was _entirely not his fault_.


	11. A Serious Question

Merryshipping FTW. (266 words, PG rating.)

**A Serious Question**

It started innocently enough. Everyone had a few drinks after dinner, and Sanji and Zoro had a few more after the others left the galley. They got to talking, just a bit drunkenly, about things that weren't really important. A question was posed. A discussion began, which quickly morphed into an argument.

It was obvious that neither of the two could answer the question and that an objective opinion was needed, so they brought in a third party. First, they asked Luffy.

"I dunno," the captain said, with a shrug and smile, and bounced off to get himself into trouble. So they took it to Usopp instead.

"I, um, I don't, uh, I have watch in two minutes I should go bye," was the marksman's reply as he rushed out the door in a panic. Thwarted again, they went to Nami.

"That's easy," the navigator answered blithely, not even bothering to look up from her magazine. "Zoro is."

"Him?!" Sanji roared, chivalry momentarily forgotten in an attack of shocked rage. The swordsman smirked triumphantly, because of course he had known all along that this was the obvious answer, and because he had one up on the chef.

"Sure," Nami said with a shrug, staring at Sanji as if she had no idea why he could possibly be so upset. "You try too hard."

Sanji slumped against the railing, defeated and wondering where he had gone wrong. Zoro crossed his arms and looked down at his opponent, wearing an expression so smug that it could have peeled the paint from walls. "Told you I'm a better kisser."


	12. Boredom

**Boredom**

"Hey…Johnny."

"What, Yosaku?"

"I'm bored."

"Well go steer the ship, then. Zoro's probably sick of it and he can't follow a map to save his life anyway."

"No…Johnny…I'm _bored_."

"Huh? …Oh. Ohhhh."

"So…you wanna…?"

"Well…I mean no, no Zoro is actually awake right now, what if he–"

"Pfft, like he doesn't know? C'mon."

"No. Zoro is going to come in because that's just the kind of luck we have, and…and get your hand off my leg or I swear I am gonna toss you off the goddamned ship, Yosaku."

"Hehehe."

"No, Yosaku. Look, one of us should really go take over for Zoro, he's gonna– mmph– get us lost again and we'll _never_ find that– nnmg– guy we were looking for and– mnf– we're not gonna get paid and–"

"Stop talking."

"Damnit, Yosaku, I just…mm…ARGH. This? _This_ is why we never make any money!"

"Didn't I tell you to stop talking?"

"I hate you so much right now, man."

"You keep telling yourself that."

"Uh. Johnny…Yosaku…what are you…uh. Should I…? I'll come back later."

"…goddamnit, Yosaku. I told you. I TOLD YOU!"

"Um. Well, at any rate, he's not coming back 'til later…"

"You are a moron, I hate your guts, I'm going to kill you, and, and…and do that again."

"Heh."


	13. Kissing a Smoker

**Kissing a Smoker**

Commodore Smoker wasn't expecting to have his weapon unfastened from its holster while he wasn't paying attention, although later he would curse himself for being off guard.

He certainly didn't expect to have the seastone tip pressed into his neck, nor did he expect to be grabbed by the arm and swung hard into an alley wall.

He expected least of all to find himself face-to-face with Portgas D. Ace, who was pinning him with one hand and grinning maniacally from under the brim of his hat.

No, that was a lie. What he expected even less than that was to then be suddenly and brutally kissed by the aforementioned pirate.

The sheer astonishment caused by this series of events was enough to make Smoker's jaw slacken. A mistake; this left his mouth open under Firefist's onslaught and allowed his tongue to gain entrance to swipe over Smoker's palate before he pulled back.

Smoker did not expect, either, to be rendered incapable of response by this action. He didn't expect to find nothing better to do than stare, gaping, into the face of his attacker and blink stupidly. Furthermore, he failed to expect the answer to his unspoken question:

"I wanted to see if it was really like licking an ashtray," Portgas explained, with a shrug and a feral grin, and then he vanished as quickly as he had appeared, leaving Smoker's weapon at his feet.

What Smoker tried to tell himself that he didn't expect was to find himself incapable of mustering the disgust that this situation clearly called for.

All he could do was stand numbly in the alley for a moment before retrieving his weapon, fastening it into its holster, and returning to his path, feeling a mixture of shock and embarrassment and…

And something highly unexpected.


	14. Make It Better

**Make It Better**

Coby lay on his back on the training mat, staring at the ceiling and trying to mentally quell the pain of fresh bruises and overworked muscles.

"Hate training," he muttered. "Hate hate hate."

"That's what you get for letting your guard down," Helmeppo sang out.

"Hate Helmeppo," Coby countered. "Hate hate hate."

"Don't blame it on me," said his training partner, leaning over him with an insufferable smirk on his face. "You're one who needs to work harder."

"Shove it, I beat you last time," Coby snapped, grudgingly accepting the hand Helmeppo offered. "And the time before that, I might add."

"Yeah, well, I beat you twice before that," the other boy said haughtily.

"And before that, I…" Coby paused and looked up at Helmeppo. "We do this every time. Did you notice that?"

Helmeppo gave him a look of mock admonishment. "And why shouldn't we?"

"Shut up." Coby was smiling against his will. Helmeppo had that effect on him. Helmeppo laughed and flung an arm around Coby's shoulders, causing him to wince and groan at the pressure on his sore muscles.

"Oi, you okay?" Helmeppo asked. He removed his arm and put his hands on Coby's shoulders. "I didn't know I'd kicked your ass _that_ bad."

"Eh, I've done worse to you." Coby grinned at his friend's annoyed huff, and winced when Helmeppo smacked his shoulder.

"Sorry." Helmeppo frowned, running his hands up and down Coby's arms. He grinned. "Want me to make it better?"

"Sure," Coby assented, and sat down, trying not to flinch as Helmeppo attempted to work the kinks out of his aching muscles. Helmeppo gave terrible massages, but Coby grinned to himself and decided that that was okay, considering that more often than not they led to something he _knew_ would make him feel better.


	15. Time to Spare

Based on a color spread in which Usopp was wearing three watches.

**Time to Spare**

"Hey, look," Usopp said brightly, pointing at one of his watches. "It's 12:25 p.m. in Syrup Village. Kaya's eating lunch right now!"

"That's kind of creepy, Usopp," Sanji commented, raising an eyebrow.

"And in Elbaf," Usopp continued, undeterred, indicating his second watch, "It's 1:25 a.m. That means the giants are sleeping."

"I didn't finance a watch for you so you can keep track of your friends' schedules," Nami called over her shoulder from her deck chair.

"And right here," Usopp went on, gesturing to his final watch, "It's 8:25 p.m.!"

"Why'd you give him money for three?" Zoro inquired, one eye open and fixed curiously on the sniper.

"I gave him money for one high quality watch, not three junk ones," Nami replied distastefully.

"8:25 already?" Luffy asked, turning around on the figurehead. "Hey Sanji, can I have a snack?"

"No. Hey Usopp, what does it mean when it's 8:25 p.m. on the Going Merry?"

"Er," Usopp began, faltered, and then grinned sheepishly. "That I have watch?"

"Yeah, you have three!"

"No, Luffy," Nami sighed. "He has lookout duty."

"And I'll just be on that, then," Usopp confirmed, inching his way toward the crow's nest and away from Zoro, whose expression made it clear that he would not be filling in for Usopp in the event of any suddenly contracted diseases.

"Why do I buy him things," Nami wondered aloud, but didn't expect an answer.

"Because you like him," Luffy pointed out, swinging idly from the figurehead.

"Shut up." Nami was smiling, and Usopp was climbing the mast and shouting down that some watches were heavy and good for throwing at captains' heads.


	16. Mercy

**Mercy**

Red-Haired Shanks, for a pirate captain, was a merciful man. While most people in such a position of power would never allow someone to insult them and live, Shanks was known to let a man who had insulted him or even broken a bottle over his head go free without even a warning. He fought only the battles he had to, the ones that he considered necessary and important. This meant that as long as one stepped lightly in regards to Shanks' friends, a person need not hold their tongue in the presence of the great and powerful captain Red-Haired Shanks.

Shanks' first mate, Ben Beckman, was another matter entirely.

Beckman wielded a rifle like a club, bringing it down upon the heads of enemies with enough force to shatter bone. He smoked, and on several occasions, he had casually plucked a lit cigarette from his lips and extinguished it on the skin (or if one was particularly unlucky, the eye) of an attacking foe. He possessed the intelligence to outwit many a clever opponent and the strength to best many a powerful rival in battle.

It was prudent to watch ones step around the great pirate captain Red-Haired Shanks, but not for fear of retribution from the man himself. For if one was to harm Shanks, and Ben Beckman was to find out…

There would be no mercy.


	17. Option Three

**Option Three**

All Zoro wanted was some alcohol and a good place to nap, which is all he ever wanted after a particularly grueling training session. His quest brought him to the galley, somewhat reluctantly due to the fact that the idiot cook was the last person he wanted to deal with.

"Oi, cabbage-head," Sanji said casually as Zoro walked past him to get to the wine rack.

"Save it," Zoro snapped, grabbing a bottle of something cheap and strong and heading back out. "I don't wanna put up with you today."

"Too bad." And without warning, Sanji's foot came out of nowhere and slammed Zoro into the wall.

"What the–" but Sanji had already closed in, pinning his shoulders and staring into his face from far too close with an expression that spoke of ill intent before leaning in and crushing their lips together.

At this point, Zoro had three options. He could shove Sanji off and go take a nap, pretending that it had never happened. He could ask Sanji what the hell he thought he was doing and then get into a vicious fight. Or he could stand there, stunned and confused, pinned to the wall, and wait for Sanji to finish. He took option three.

Eventually, Sanji did back off, smirking, and all Zoro could say was "What?!"

"Had a bet," Sanji explained, smugly, and headed for the door. "Don't touch anything in here, marimo; I have to go tell Usopp your eyelashes are green. He owes me ten beri."

Zoro was caught between fuming quietly about having been used, or attacking the cook and beating him senseless, or wondering how someone who smokes that much can taste that good. Somewhat chagrined, Zoro left the galley with his bottle of rum and, again, went with option three.


	18. The Answer is Obvious

**The Answer is Obvious**

Ask either of them– both will tell you. Johnny is the one with no common sense.

Johnny was the one who stole away in the dead of night to leave his simple yet cozy and, as Yosaku would continually note, _safe_ former life behind to make his way in the world as a bounty hunter. Yosaku was also known to point out that Johnny accomplished this without knowing how to hold a sword properly, and that learning from experience was possibly the stupidest thing Johnny had ever done…at the time. Many more and dumber feats were appearing on Johnny's résumé on a daily basis.

However, Yosaku often wondered– and so did Johnny, honestly– if he wasn't the one more lacking in common sense for following Johnny away and picking up a sword right alongside him, and learning how to use it the trial and error way as well, and spending a sizeable portion of his time making sure that Johnny didn't get himself hopelessly and pathetically and brutally _killed_.

It was one of the few things they both puzzled over on a regular basis, rather than going with the flow (in Johnny's case) and worrying about the consequences later (in Yosaku's). And both of them were shocked and astounded when it was Zoro, their much-beloved but decidedly emotionally-stunted brother and best buddy, who pointed it out to them one evening while dragging the unconscious body of an unfortunate pirate into town to collect his bounty:

"Well, you're supposed to act like an idiot when you love somebody, right? I mean, that's just how it works."

And maybe, when they both thought about it later on, neither of them had any common sense at all for not having figured out something so glaringly obvious on their own.


	19. No Man Is An Island

Mihawk didn't even know what was going on, let alone how it had happened. He would have liked to assume it was Shanks' fault, but in this particular situation, all evidence pointed to the contrary.

All he knew was that the night was dark and the firelight was glowing, the only sounds were the breeze and the breaking of waves and the constant chorus of insects chirping, the sand was warm under his palms and Shanks was looking up at him with eyes only a little unfocused.

Mihawk could only stare down at him in vague confusion and notice that the bottle of rum was upended nearby and emptying onto the sand and the corner of his cape, draped over them where they were sprawled across the ground…he tried to remember how this had occurred. The only scenario coming to mind was that he must have just knocked Shanks back into the sand, which was _horribly_ undignified.

He somehow suspected that the prolonged lack of human contact had something to do with it. When was the last time he'd seen another human being and not killed them? Also Shanks had been doing that _infuriating_ thing all night, that smiling and laughing and talking and being friendly thing, and it was starting to drive Mihawk crazy.

Maybe it was the rum. Maybe it was a reckless compulsion born of knowing that no one on this island wanted to pick a fight and that he could get away with practically anything, maybe it was the uncommon stability of solid ground getting to his head, maybe it was the way Shanks was grinning up at him and idly tugging on the brim of his hat until it came off and fell somewhere over to the side, unheeded. But either way, Mihawk felt utterly drunk, not on rum but on hazel eyes and fingers trailing down the side of his face and he leaned down and kissed the newly-formed smile on the pirate captain's lips.

He knew that all this would be gone by morning, fading into a speck of land on the horizon. In spite of that, or maybe because of it, Mihawk was going to pretend that this was okay, even if it meant one more moment to remember in solitude over the long, lonely stretch of ocean.


	20. Nothing Much

He does this thing when he's frustrated, Zoro has noticed; this aggravated tsking noise combined with a groan of annoyance. It's the noise he makes while surveying the mess after Hurricane Luffy has ripped through the galley, but he's already taken all of his actual anger out on the captain. He never makes it at Zoro, because Zoro is always the subject of massive anger or nothing much at all.

Such is the nature of their relationship. Fight, argue, complain, cooperate, ignore. Zoro doesn't mind, because it's not like he wants anything from the love-cook other than an occasional fight to work off the tension of being stuck on a boat for weeks at a time between Marine attacks.

He's pretty sure Sanji forgets he exists sometimes, when he's not actively searching for things about Zoro to get angry at. That's fine; most of the time, Zoro would rather forget Sanji as well. (Which doesn't mean he _can_, but damn if he doesn't _try_.)

The bastard is really hard to ignore sometimes.

"Oi, marimo, get off your ass and help bring the supplies on board."

"No. Takin' a nap."

"So you're just going to lay there and soak up the sun while the rest of us do the work, is that it, moss-for-brains?"

"That's the plan."

Zoro braced for a kick to the head. It's what should have happened. What _actually_ happened was that, after a long, simmering pause, Sanji made that frustrated noise and walked away, muttering.

Zoro lay resolutely in the sun for a good three minutes.

Sanji later caught him walking up the gangplank with a sack of potatoes over his shoulder. "What brought this on?" he asked, sneering and sardonic but clearly surprised.

Zoro looked at him plainly, squinting a bit in the midday sun. "Nothing."


	21. Honestly

Rob Lucci does not give ground. When pushed, he pushes back harder. Anyone who tries to stab him in the back gets stabbed in the front before they have the chance. But this…

The loud-mouthed idiot has one hand fisted in Lucci's shirt hard enough to rend the fabric, and he isn't letting up even though the expression on his face is wavering from alcohol and uncertainty—he knows he's getting himself into something deeper than he wants, but he won't back down.

This is different.

Paulie has been a nuisance, brash and posturing and constantly underfoot, since the day Lucci met him. He's always been there, helping hand or harmful hindrance, guarding his back or attacking relentlessly at the slightest provocation, and he _never goes away_.

This isn't like other times.

Seconds tick by, moonbeams cutting through the dim lamplight on some deserted street near Blueno's bar. The fist in his shirt hasn't released its grip and Lucci hasn't tried to make him let go—the idiot moves closer, and Lucci doesn't stop him.

He could lie to himself, like people do in situations like this. He could tell himself he's doing it to get in good with someone in a position to help his mission. He could say he's just letting off steam in a manner alternative to crushing the annoying bastard's windpipe. He could pretend all he wants is to use him, to mess with his head.

Rob Lucci doesn't give ground, especially not himself. No lies, not within his own mind. It would be the beginning of an end.

He hates it. Hating himself for it wouldn't do any good, so he'll hate Paulie instead.

But he'll kiss him first, before Paulie gets the chance to. Because Rob Lucci never gives ground.


	22. Mentor

Iceburg, Paulie had long ago decided, knew _everything_.

At least, he knew everything important. And everything Paulie knew that was important, he'd learned from Iceburg. This wasn't to say that Paulie didn't have skills of his own. He could…

Well, being deeply in debt probably didn't count as a skill.

But he knew things! It was just that Iceburg knew more things. Paulie was okay with that, as long as he got to be Iceburg's right-hand man, the one Iceburg trusted and could talk to about anything. After all, Paulie didn't put much stock in being wise if all a guy was going to do was build ships and break jaws and waste paychecks on booze and gambling.

Of course, Iceburg was trying to teach him that wasn't all he was good for. That was good, too; these days, Paulie needed reminding. And he was always up for learning new things.

Iceburg was the only one Paulie trusted to teach him new things, though. Which was…slightly problematic. Because there were some things Paulie thought he'd like to learn about that he wasn't sure Iceburg would be willing to teach him…

Until the night Paulie got himself appropriately drunk and just _asked_, which he probably should have done in the first place because everyone knew that nobody could be held accountable for their words if they couldn't stand up straight.

But Iceburg said no, precisely _because_ he couldn't stand up straight, which Paulie hadn't considered.

He did, however, let Paulie sleep on his couch. And he said that typically, the proper first step to take in these matters was to ask one out for dinner, and that they could do that when Paulie was sober and had recovered from the mortification. And then he found Paulie some aspirin.

Iceburg knew everything.


End file.
